Angel No More
by Mysterious Nerd
Summary: John hasn't been dealing with Sherlocks death. If anything he's been falling into a state of depression. So when he starts to see Sherlock everywhere, is it head playing tricks? Or has his Angel come back?
1. Chapter 1

I sat there watching him play, listening to the sweet music that he often played while he was thinking about a case. The swift, fast movements of his arm as he moves the bow across the violin. The straight posture he always had was as straight as ever and the ways in which the lights reflected from behind him as he turned and smiled at me made him look like an angel…

That was when I opened my eyes. There was no sweet music from _his_ violin. No movements of his arm across the violin as he played. No more of his smiles that light up the room. No more of my angel Sherlock…

The sound of approaching footsteps bought me too, giving myself a mental shake I stand and face the direction the steps were coming from and look into the swollen red eyes of Mycroft Holmes. We were both finding it hard to cope after the fall, but it was only through Mrs Hudson putting us together that we began to let our walls down and cried together.

"It's been two years John, you need to start moving on. Getting your life back to how it was before you knew Sherlock" Mycroft crossed over the space in the room and sat down in Sherlock's chair, putting his umbrella beside him. "I know of a good therapist that can help, she'll take you through it step by step. Maybe you'll come to get married someday".

"I DON'T WANT TO MOVE ON MYCROFT! I...I just can't do it. Not yet. It's too soon." My gaze falls longingly at the space where he often stood to play and I could feel myself tearing up again. No. I wouldn't do this with Mycroft here. No more. "I still care about him deeply Mycroft. You, his brother of all people, should realise how hard this is for me. Everywhere I look I see Holmes. The cases. I'm reminded of it all, all of the fantastic times we had together."

Mycroft simply just lifts his gaze to mine, "Leave then".

"LEAVE? YOU SUGGEST I LEAVE BAKER STREET?!" I stand up so fast my chair goes flying back and slams into a set of draws. "I can't leave the one place that I….I can't leave Mrs Hudson Mycroft. This is my home. 221B is my home. Our home. 221b will forever be mine and Sherlock's home. Always."

"I'm sorry if I off-"

"Just leave Mycroft. I don't want you here. Go." As I hear his footsteps go down the stairs, I walk over to the window and rest my head on the window frame. The image of Sherlock surrounded by light filled my mind and I started silently crying while staring out of the window. "I miss you Sherlock".


	2. Chapter 2

**_Sherlock_**

I saw him standing there at the window, tears rolling down his cheeks. How I wish I could tell him I'm alive! I would do anything to see him smile again, to read his annoying blogs about our cases.

I wait until him and Mrs Hudson are asleep and I silently let myself into my home, 221B Baker Street. Walking through my home it feels strange for it to feel so familiar, but yet to feel like such a stranger. Standing in the doorway to John's room, I watch him sleep. This isn't the first time I've done this, but I can't help myself. Every day I rip myself apart for leaving him. My one friend. My best friend. Ii think to myself today I'll do it, I'll reveal myself to him but I can't. I never know what to say.

Instead I leave subtle hints, hoping that John will notice, that he's kept his observant eye since I left him. At first it was the little things but I'm dropping bigger hints now, I need to have my friend by my side once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**_John_**

I saw him. He was there in my room last night. I know it. I don't say anything to Mrs Hudson or Mycroft. They'll just think my hallucinations are back. So instead I keep it to myself and I get myself ready for the mind numbing day ahead of me.

I'm walking around the kitchen when I feel it, there's something slightly off about it. Although I can't put a finger on it. So instead I just stand there and close my eyes; only then do I realise what Sherlock used to tell me, that I would look but never see. Slowly I then start to piece together what is going on around me. The subtle signs I think I see everywhere….What if they are actually real? And that _my_ Sherlock is coming back to London.. Coming back to me.

"So you think that Sherlock Holmes is coming back to see you, because you thought you saw him in your bedroom and have convinced yourself that there are signs everywhere. Have I got that right?" My counsellor is still in disbelief that I'm convinced he's returning. She just shakes her head and smiles sympathetically at me. "I'm afraid none of it is true John. Sherlock won't come back to you. He died. You of all people should believe this as you saw him fall from Barts."

"Just because I saw it doesn't mean I have to believe it! I just want to have some hope. Can't you even allow me that, just a little bit of hope?" I watch her as she write something down and looks back through my notes. It's ridiculous that I've been put back to therapy. I'm fine. I was coping fine after he first died and I'm coping fine now.

"You know I can't John. It's not healthy for you to still be obsessed with Sherlock. You have to let him go. Try and carry on with the blog if you can. But you must get out of 221b. You have to move out." She pauses and waits for my reaction but instead I just sit there and stare out of the window. Ignoring the words she says. Trying to block them out. "There's something you regret isn't there John? Something that you wish you had said before he fell. What is it?"

I still refuse to look at her as I answer, I continue to sit there and stare out into the garden for a few minutes. Buying time to answer. After a while I get up and walk towards the door, pausing before taking the door handle in grasp and I turn slightly to look at her. "Yes I wish I could have said it. But I won't say it as I don't know myself what I would have said". With that I walk out of that office without looking back.

I lay there staring up at the celling of my room, thinking. Thinking about all of the memories back when _he _was alive. When my life was exciting and I knew what I was doing every day and I loved doing it. Seeing the battlefield of London with _him_ by my side. I then think back to that formidable day outside St Bart's Hospital when Sherlock called me then fell to his death. To this day I don't know why he done it, what made him do it. But I realised now something I didn't know would be possible. I missed him far too much for a normal person. I missed the way he would run his hand through those curly locks of his. The way that the light would bounce off of his cheekbones and how his lips. Oh! His lips! How they would light a room with just one smile. And his shirts, how every shirt he seemed to wear would pull as if it would bust the seams if he were to flex a single muscle. How I wish now that those buttons would burst in my memory so I could see his skin under his shirt. How I could kiss those lips just once so I knew what it felt like. Laying there with silent tears rolling down my cheeks, as I find that sleepy haze I whisper one simple sentence into the night. Hoping that wherever he is, he can hear me.

"I love you Sherlock".


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**_Sherlock_**

I'm fed up of hiding away. I have to find him. I have to tell him I'm alive! I can't stop until he knows I'm safe and that I wish more than ever to be back with him in 221b. Today is the day. I will reveal myself to him today. But how? Shall I make it public and leave him a note to find to meet me somewhere, or shall I just jump out of a bush and surprise him…No.. They seem ridiculous affairs to even think about. I know how to do it, I just have to wait until nightfall.

**_John_**

There was something different about the air today. Like the world was reeling with excitement again. I head off to the surgery and begin a long day of work when at about lunch time I notice something odd. The normal continuous flow of patients I had had suddenly stopped and that there appeared to be no-one else on my waiting list for the afternoon.

"Rachel, what's going on with my appointments this afternoon? It says I'm empty for the rest of the day?"

Rachel, who is about early 20's, fairly tall for her age and is actually quite pretty, looks up at me from behind her desk. "Did no-one tell you John? We had a call from a family member and said that you needed the afternoon off for an emergency of sorts. Sharon and Sarah have taken over your patients that couldn't be re-arranged for another day." She looks slightly confused as I stand there with a blank look on my face.

"Oh ok. Thanks. Best I better get going then. Did they say who it was when they called?" She looks down at the memo briefly and then shakes her head before turning to help a patient that had walked through the door.

Returning back to my office I sit there for a moment and ponder at who could have possibly said that. As far as I knew I didn't have any distant family, well not any which would class themselves it in a relative class. Mind pondering, I walk around my office picking up my things and head out to leave the surgery. Before I knew It my feet where carrying me to the taxi ranks about 15 minutes away from the surgery and I head off home. Only home is not where I ended up.

I had no idea why I was here, but I knew as I stood there and looked up at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital that this needed to be done. I had to revisit where he fell so that I could try and finally move on. But it was all too much, as I was stood there re-playing every moment of that day was flowing through my head. Me, standing motionless just watching him. Feeling confusion and helpless. Wanting to run out and catch him as he falls. Feeling as though my life had been ripped out from underneath me as I watched him fall. Feeling utter desperation at the fact that my best friend had killed himself and wishing that it was all a lie. Even now the memory of those thoughts still pass through my head.

Turning on my heel I walk away, get into a cab and go to the one place where I know he will be. His grave.

Standing there looking down on it, I kneel and clean away some of the dirt. It has to be shiny. It has to be clean.

"Why did you leave me Sherlock? I needed you then and I need you now still. Every day I go over what happened, what I could have said and what could have made you jump. I don't know what ever possessed you to kill yourself but still every day I hope and I pray that you are still alive and that you are just watching me." I give a half-hearted laugh and then sit down facing away from the headstone. "When I walk around London, it's not the same. Nothing is the same without you. I went from facing the day-to-day battlefield of London and finding out amazing things. Watching you do amazing deductions about criminals." I sigh as I shift, starting to get slightly embarrassed by talking to myself. "Truth be told Sherlock…I…I miss you more than I care to admit. And it's killing me knowing that I never got the chance to tell you how I actually felt for you and how much I really cared. Now that you're gone I feel so empty and alone now. But that's going to change because I came to say goodbye. Goodbye Sherlock. You will always hold a place in my heart as my saviour and rock. I need to move on and accept that you aren't coming back, and that you have gone forever. Goodbye Sherlock." With this I pick myself up, dust myself off and head back towards Baker Street without looking back.

The cab ride back felt the longest I ever had but as I pulled up to 221b I felt something different in the air around it. I don't remember leaving a light on but there it was, a single light on and the faint sound of music. Mrs Hudson must be listening to a new CD, I shout out my hello as I walk past her door and slowly walk up the stairs to my home and head straight to bed.

I awake the next day to the soft sound of a violin being played in a soft lullaby, feeling alarmed I rush out of bed and come face to face with someone standing in my living room.

"Hello John" The deep voice of the stranger sounds like velvet and he turns still playing the violin/ it's then that I realise who this stranger is.

"Sherlock"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**_John_**

Shock. That's the first thing that goes through my mind, the second being _'I never knew the floor could hurt so much'. _ I'm in complete shock that Sherlock Holmes is standing in the front room of 221B. There's so much I want to say to him, so much I want to do, but I'm momentarily silenced because I'm in Shock. Sherlock see's that I'm having trouble speaking, but instead of walking over to me he just stands there staring at me. Waiting for my reaction, to probably shout at him or to run. Instead I try and keep my voice calm and face steady as I look him in his gorgeous green eyes and demand to know the truth.

"You're supposed to be dead. You WERE dead Sherlock. Or at least that's what I thought."

"John I'm sorry." Sherlock looks away from me momentarily but I know in that split second he honestly meant how sorry he was. "I had to do it, I got in too deep with Moriarty. There was no other way to stop him."

"Stop him from what Sherlock?"

"You don't need to know.. All you need to know is that I'm not dead and that I'm here." He starts to walk over to me, to try and consolidate me I think. But before he gets too close I move and stand by the table.

"I DON'T NEED TO KNOW? I DON'T NEED TO….SHERLOCK YOU WERE DEAD FOR TWO YEARS. TWO FUCKING YEARS I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T HERE. I BELIEVED THAT YOU HAD JUMPED OFF THAT ROOF AND KILLED YOURSELF!" I try and calm myself down after shouting at him but instead I just become overwhelmed with emotions of when he allegedly died. "I thought you were dead Sherlock….that screwed me over more than you could imagine…you didn't give me a proper explanation." I had to sit down or at least look away from him at this point, so I choose to look down at the floor rather than his well-defined face and those damned cheekbones of his.

"I never thought I would hurt you that badly John. Please, please forgive me. If there was another way around it then believe me I would have done it in a heartbeat." He started walking back over to me again and I let him. I let him walk over to me and stand inches from me.

"Hurt doesn't even begin to cover it. I was heartbroken Sherlock. I've had to see a therapist again because I was that messed up! I haven't been able to eat, sleep or even think properly without you around. For the first 3 months no-one dared to even mention your name to me because I would breakdown. That is how _hurt_ I was." What I neglected to tell him was that for the first two weeks I wouldn't come of Baker Street and I would just walk around all day in one of his robes. I won't ever tell him that.

Sherlock had pulled me to him, giving me a hug and I felt, rather than heard, him sigh. "It was all for you John. I had to fake my death to prevent yours." He puts his fingers under my chin and lifts it so that I'm looking at his face and into his luscious green eyes. "It was either I live and you died or I fake my death so that you could carry on with your life. I can't live without you John." We stood there staring into each other's eyes for a few more seconds before Sherlock turned and walked away to the window, seeming frustrated. Without realising what was happening, Sherlock had walked back over to me, ruffled his hair slightly, put one hand on the side of my face and kissed me with a force of passion that had appeared from somewhere inside of him. Not listening to what my head was saying I kissed him back, met passion for passion, grief for grief, sorrow for forgiveness and love for love. Pulling back breathless after the kiss he looked at me and gave me a rare Sherlock smile

"I've been waiting two years to do that."


End file.
